A Muggle Way of Life
by Ahja Reyn
Summary: What do you get when you have a modern muggle dwelling inhabited by the Gryffindor Golden Boy and the Slytherin Ice Prince? A whole lot of stress...
1. Food Clueless and Potions Hungry

**Title:** A Muggle Way of Life  
**Author:** Reyn  
**Rating:** Not sure…T for now due to language, but if I expand this, it might get moved up to M  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy, let alone anything else in the world of J.K. Rowling.  
**Warnings:** Malfoy's putdown of technology, real life experiences (not mine), and probable lack of slash action (nooooooo!). LoL. Jest kidding, folks! Maybe. Heh.  
**Author's Note:** This is jest a fun little story I started writing one day. There probably won't be much action, but I'm attempting to add sexual tension in its place (I've never written sexual tension before, so bear with me). I hope you all enjoy it, and if you do, leave a review!  
**Chapter Dedication:** Calvin and Hobbes comics for the popcorn fiasco and the exploding potato

**CHAPTER 1: Food Clueless and Potions Hungry**

"Potter, I'm hungry!"

Harry rolled his eyes and ignored the drawling voice, keeping his focus on the potion he was currently attempting to complete. After nearly a month of being stuck together under the same roof, Harry came to learn that pretending Malfoy was not there was the easiest way to deal with him. This, of course, infuriated the blond to no end, and wasn't really the _best_ idea considering this was a very modern _muggle_ dwelling. Already, Malfoy had broken the dryer, hexed the outlet in the bathroom for shocking him when he touched it with a wet hand (which resulted in a blackout throughout the neighborhood), snapped the light switch off the wall from playing with it too much, and dented the dishwasher door when he kicked it for not washing dishes fast enough.

Now, at this point you all are probably wondering why Harry and Malfoy were holed up in such a joint away from the wizarding world. To be honest, not even Harry himself was sure about why he was in this odd little predicament either, especially with Voldemort still at large.

Last he checked, Malfoy despised the Light Side and even went on to receive the Dark Mark immediately after graduation. The weird twist came nearly a year later when Malfoy was found at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, demanding to speak with its owners. Once Fred and George had finally shown up, Malfoy insisted on being granted an audience with Dumbledore, but was reluctant to say why.

After a private meeting between the two, Dumbledore approached Harry and told him that he was to watch over Malfoy and keep him alive at all costs. With that said, the two boys were shipped off to an extremely muggle part of London where they were told to stay put and refrain from drawing attention to themselves.

"Potter, are you deaf? I said I'm…" Malfoy trailed off as he saw Harry standing over the sink, stirring a bubbling cauldron inside it. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I thought I was weeding the garden, but suddenly I'm not so sure," Harry replied sarcastically.

"You're making a bloody potion aren't you?" Malfoy asked as he stepped further into the kitchen.

"No shit, Sherlock," Harry said half-heartedly as he peered at his book to read the next few steps.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar muggle retort, but chose to let it slip as he cautiously peered into the cauldron only to snap back from the reeking fumes. "Fuck, Potter! Are you trying to poison all the food in the kitchen? What are you concocting!"

"Er…Le Guess-tee doo Jardin," Harry said, struggling to pronounce the title.

"_Le Geste du Jardin_? The Flourishing Garden? That's got to be the ponciest potion ever created! Why are _you_ of all people attempting it?" Malfoy sneered.

"Well…the garden's looking pretty weak, despite my efforts so…" Harry shrugged as he trailed off.

"Whatever. You just want to enter that 'Prettiest Backyard' Contest or whatever that stupid flyer called it," Malfoy said maliciously.

Harry said nothing, but his cheeks took on a slightly pinkish hue.

"Honestly, Potter, if I hadn't seen you out on that date with Cho Chang back during our fifth year, I'd swear you were a poof," Malfoy commented as he moved over to the refrigerator. "Besides, the potion should be pink, not that murky brown color."

"Er…right…" Harry said somewhat unsurely as he went back to looking over the directions to see what went wrong. But something gave him pause. "Malfoy? How do you know what color it should be?"

Malfoy froze midway through his rummaging. "Er…my mother used to make the potion and have our old house elf use it on the gardens. She also liked to pour some in the bouquets we put up during parties and such."

"Oh."

"Anyways, you should give it up. There's no way you'll be able to save that now," Malfoy said. "You should do something more constructive with you time. Like making me lunch."

"Make your own lunch," Harry retorted.

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm busy."

Malfoy snorted. "Oh yes, ruined potions that might as well be deemed lost causes are so time consuming."

Harry went back to ignoring him.

Seeing as how his arrogant attitude would get him nowhere, Malfoy switched tactics.

"But, Potter, you always make the best meals."

"I make the only meals. And you always make faces and poke at them and refuse to eat until hunger gets the best of you. And even then, you act like each mouthful is pure torture," Harry said.

"I only did that during the first few days!"

"No, you did that for the first two weeks. The first few days, you chose to starve yourself from the confines of your room during your attempt at boycotting all the muggle devices in the house."

Malfoy frowned. "Fine! I'll just make my own bloody lunch!"

When he didn't receive an answer from Harry, Malfoy went back to going through the refrigerator, trying to decide what he felt like eating. After a bit of thinking, he decided that he was craving fish and chips and started to look for those. When he didn't spot any, he frowned. They _had_ to have fish and chips! At least the chips! Potter was able to make just about anything on any given day, therefore the food had to be here somewhere.

Giving up his search in the fridge, Malfoy moved to the pantry. After a few minutes, he spotted a bag of potatoes. Well, chips came from potatoes, right?

Proud of his discovery, Malfoy grabbed one potato out of the bag and turned to look around the kitchen. Now what?

His vision came to rest on the microwave. True, he didn't know much about muggle kitchen devices, but he had watched Harry cook from time to time. Marching up to the microwave with purpose, Malfoy opened its door and set the potato in and closed the door and waited.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, Malfoy tried to figure out why the blasted thing wasn't working. Suddenly, he remembered. Harry usually pushed some buttons on the side panel.

Blinking at the pad, Malfoy pushed several of the number buttons and then set about pushing other random buttons until the thing came to life and started to hum.

Satisfied at his work, Malfoy sat down at the table and began to sift through the junk mail they received through the muggle post. Most were addressed to 'current resident' although a few sported 'Mr. Potter' since the house was under Harry's name.

Using their real names had been decided as the safest way to go by Hermione. She had reasoned that the Death Eaters would be keeping a look out for pseudonyms of Harry and Malfoy's names, and as long as the two didn't go about giving out their full name to anyone, they would be fine. Everything was under Potter's name because the names 'Harry' and 'Potter' were rather common, whereas 'Draco' and 'Malfoy' were not.

After a few minutes of silence (with the exception of the hum of the microwave, the bubbling of the cauldron, and the rustling of paper), Harry spoke.

"Malfoy, what's that smell?"

"I told you that sorry excuse for a potion was turning toxic," Malfoy drawled as he continued to flip through the advertisements for clothing.

"It's not that…" Harry trailed off as he sniffed the air. His attention was drawn to the sound of the microwave. "What are you warming up?"

"I'm making myself chips and no, you can't have any."

"But we don't have any ready made chips…" Harry said, partially to himself. "What did you put in the microwave?"

"A potato." Came the bored reply.

"What? You can't make chips by putting a potato in the microwave!"

"Why not?"

Harry was about to answer when the odd smell doubled in strength.

"Malfoy, how long did you put it in there for?" he asked.

"Not sure. It's been in there for quite a while though. Do you suppose it's done yet?"

BOOM! SPLAT!

Both boys' heads snapped in the direction of the noise where they saw the inside of the microwave glass door dripping in pale slop.

"Hey, my chips!" Malfoy exclaimed as he jumped to his feet. "What did you do to my potato, Potter!"

"What? Me! You're the idiot who put it in the microwave!"

"Yeah, I put it in there, but I didn't ask for it to explode!"

Harry simply glared. "I'm not cleaning that up."

"You don't expect _me_ to clean that!" Malfoy exclaimed.

Harry's glare didn't waver.

"But that's House Elf work! If you want me to clean that, you'll have to give me my wand."

"No. You know the rules. We have to refrain from using our wands to avoid detection," Potter scolded.

"Unless it's for an emergency," Malfoy added.

"An extreme emergency," Harry corrected.

"But this is an extreme emergency! I can't touch that! The starch will get all crusty on my hands!" Malfoy said.

"I think Dumbledore meant 'life-or-death' when he said extreme emergency, not dirty hands."

"Well, there's no way I'm touching that." Malfoy crossed his arms as a stubborn look settled on his face.

"Fine. I'll get it later. Just find yourself something else to eat," Harry said with a sigh as he turned his attention back to the potion which had gone from a murky brown to a dark, almost fleshy color. Hopefully a few more corrections would bring it up to the healthy pink it was supposed to be.

Harry eyed the bowl of crushed pine needles, debating on whether or not those would help if added. At this point, he was simply throwing in random ingredients, and so far it seemed to be working.

Grabbing the pine needles, he dumped them into a bowl before adding two acorns. He then began to grind them together, ignoring the sound of something being poured into a metal pot.

Harry continued to ignore the sounds coming from Malfoy's direction until a loud 'POP!' forced him to turn.

"What in Godric's name are you doing!" Harry shouted as several more popping noises quickly preceded the initial one.

"I'm making popcorn," Malfoy said defensively as several more kernels came flying out of the uncovered pan.

"Bloody hell! Put a lid on it!" Harry said as he quickly abandoned his position by the sink and hurried over to the stove.

Malfoy simply frowned as the distinct smell of something burning drew his attention away from Potter and back to the stove. A small shout escaped his lips as the dried corn kernels suddenly erupted into flames.

Both Harry and Malfoy simultaneously dove under the kitchen table as several more fiery kernels exploded, shooting hazardously around the room.

"Damn it, where's the fire extinguisher!" Harry yelled in frustration as his eyes combed the kitchen.

"It's called 'water', Scarhead!" Malfoy retorted from his huddled position next to Harry.

Harry said nothing as he jumped up from behind the table and made a mad dash to the sink, dodging the mini missiles that flew in his direction.

Without even bothering to think twice, he grabbed the cauldron, ran back to the stove, and dumped the potion on the roaring fire causing the flames to instantly die without so much as a hiss.

Malfoy cautiously peered over the edge of the table to see Harry standing next to the stove, breathing heavily while looking in his direction.

"You alright?" Harry asked.

Malfoy simply nodded as both boys glanced around the kitchen. Small flames dotted several places, but other than that, no harm seemed to be done.

With a sigh, Harry grabbed a large cup from the cupboard and headed back to the sink, preparing to put out the tiny fires that now decorated their kitchen.

Malfoy, on the other hand, ignored the fires around him and approached the rather large mess on the stove. Peering into the pot, he sneered at the grotesque sight inside.

The still bubbling mess now sported odd-shaped lumps and swirls of charcoal black throughout its murky pink color.

Wait. Still bubbling?

Malfoy blinked and leaned in closer. Sure enough, the contents inside the dish were bubbling, and violently so.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked hesitantly as he slowly backed away from the stove

"What?" came the weary reply.

"It's boiling."

"What?" Harry turned, confused by what Malfoy had just said.

No sooner had he turned, the pot on the stove exploded. Shards of metal went flying as the poor excuse for a gardening potion covered the kitchen. Decrepit looking plants suddenly sprouted around the trash can and near the pantry.

Neither boy even had time to duck, and simply stood staring at each other until Malfoy managed to bark out a laugh as some of the potion slid off Harry's glasses, allowing him to see properly.

"Merlin! That was more fun than exploding the potato in the microwave!" Malfoy laughed.

Harry glared. "Yeah, you would laugh. Look at you! It looks as if you're wearing a bleeding helmet of dragon dung!"

Malfoy's amused expression quickly transformed into one of horror as he dashed off to the bathroom, leaving an angry Harry behind.

Looking around, Harry groaned as he grabbed a rag and bucket and got ready to clean and disinfect the entire kitchen.


	2. Death By Shot

**Title**: A Muggle Way of Life

**Author**: Reyn

**Rating**: Not sure…T for now due to language, but if I expand this, it might get moved up to M

**Author's Note**: Hooray! I've finally gotten my attention back to this fic! I totally LOVE the experiences you guys are giving me! Please keep them coming! Oh! I'm also open to any grocery shopping, clothes shopping, and any other outdoor or shopping experiences.

**Chapter Dedication**: Once again to the Calvin and Hobbes comics for the doctor visit

**Previous Chapter**: When we last left off, our Hero and Anti-Hero were in quite a mess of things, literally. Malfoy had attempted to make himself lunch, which ended with an exploding potato in the microwave and a fire on the kitchen stove. Staying true to his hero form, Potter used his failed attempt at a potion to put the fire out. This resulted in an explosion, forcing Malfoy to run to the shower to clean himself off, leaving Potter behind to clean the kitchen.

**CHAPTER 2: Death By Shot**

Harry Potter had barely started wiping off the stove when he heard a high-pitched scream coming from upstairs. With a sigh, he dropped his rag and hurried to the master bedroom to see what the problem was.

Not finding any traces of the blond there, he headed through the adjacent door into the master bathroom. There stood Draco Malfoy, attempting to look at his back in the mirror, with his shirt clenched in his hand. He turned as Potter walked in.

"You!" he cried. "This is all your fault!"

"What's my fault?" Potter asked as Malfoy waved the dirty shirt in his face.

Malfoy glared for a moment before turning his back to Potter, listening with some satisfaction as the boy gasped.

All across his back were a number of scrapes and scratches, caused by the exploding pot. Blood dripped down from some of the wounds and smeared across others from when the shirt had been removed. Harry stood wide-eyed, staring at the damage.

Draco shifted uncomfortably as the silence prolonged. Honestly, a few small scratches were hardly worth gaping at.

Finally Harry spoke. "Malfoy, maybe you should go lie down. I'll go get some warm water and a towel to clean that off."

"Why? It's just a few scratches."

"A few - Blimey, Malfoy! It looks like someone took a lawn mower to your back!"

Malfoy's frown turned into a look of confusion. "What's a 'yarn mover'?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Your back is completely shredded you ponce!"

Malfoy's eyes widened as he looked back at the shirt in his hand. The backside was torn in a few places and there were several blood stains, but nothing to suggest his back was shredded.

"What are you talking about Potter; it's just a few cuts!"

"Malfoy, look at yourself! Your entire back is bleeding!"

Once again Malfoy turned, trying to see his own backside in the mirror. He gasped as he noticed it seemed to be much redder than before.

"Merlin, I'm dying," was all he said before the world around him faded to black.

Harry rushed forward catching Malfoy under his arms before he hit the floor.

"You idiot. Only you would do something as dramatic as faint at the sight of your own blood," Harry said as he dragged Malfoy's unconscious form across the room.

After situating Malfoy face down on the bed (which required a lot of huffing and straining on ex-Gryffindor's part), Harry headed downstairs to grab a bowl and washcloth. But before he could reach the kitchen, there was a knock on the door.

Harry paused, worried that it was the Ministry of Magic at his door, here to arrest him for the magic signature the exploding potion was sure to have given off. He quickly shook his head of that idea, remembering the numerous wards placed around the property. Another insistent knock brought him to his senses and he quickly opened the door to reveal Mrs. Annabelle Thatcher, his neighbor.

Mrs. Thatcher was an old widow who was very kind, but a bit too nosy for Harry's liking. She strongly suspected Harry and Malfoy to be something of an item, and was forever bringing over baked goods as an excuse to get into the house to see if her suspicions were true.

Harry was fairly sure the Order obliviated her at least once a day, considering no rumors had ever been spread about some of the odd occurrences that happened at 85 Cherry Tree Lane. That and the fact that she considered Malfoy to be nothing short of an absolute gentleman was a sure sign that there was something funny with her head.

"Hullo, Mrs. Thatcher. Can I help you with something?" Harry said politely.

"Good evening, Harry dear," Mrs. Thatcher greeted kindly, peering over his shoulder. "Are you alright? I heard a small explosion and I wasn't sure where it came from until I noticed the mess on your kitchen windows. Is everything ok in there?"

"Er…yes, everything's fine. Just a simple cooking mishap is all," Harry replied as honestly as he could.

"Cooking troubles? Oh dear, better let me have a look then. I was the cooking champion back in my day. I'll be able to tell you what can be salvaged," Mrs. Thatcher said as she brushed past Harry and entered the house.

"Oh no, that really won't be necessary! I doubt any of it can be saved! Really, you don't need to trouble yourself!" Harry called out as he chased after the old lady.

"Good Heavens!" Mrs. Thatcher exclaimed as she entered the kitchen. "What on earth were you trying to make?"

"Err…"

"My word! In all my years, I don't think I've ever come across a cooking accident _this_ hazardous."

"Yes, well, you see, there's a reason for that…" Harry said as he tried to think up a plausible excuse.

"Draco and his chemistry set again?" Mrs. Thatcher asked understandingly.

"Y-yeah. That's it," Harry stuttered.

A while back, Harry had told all the neighbors that Malfoy was studying chemistry and that any explosions or flickering electrical currents were simply a result of his experiments. Malfoy had been highly offended at being lumped together with muggle science, but as it was the neighbors accepted it and so the story stuck.

"Where is young Draco?" Mrs. Thatcher asked as she looked around expectantly.

"He's upstairs sleeping," Harry answered.

"Oh?"

"Yes, well, he was feeling tired, and I decided to cook him lunch, but I forgot that he left one of his experiments in the fridge. I mistook the unlabeled container for…err…potato salad…and…err…yeah." At this point, Harry really wished he had the ability to shut up.

"Oh my. He must have been very tired to sleep through an explosion like that," Mrs. Thatcher commented. "I heard it all the way from Mrs. Wheeler's living room, and that's a good three houses down."

"Well, he was pretty exhausted," Harry replied, instantly regretting those words.

"Really? Whatever for?" Mrs. Thatcher asked with wide, curious eyes.

"Oh…various activities." Harry mentally groaned. Could he stick his foot even further in his mouth?

"I see," Mrs. Thatcher said with a look of dawning comprehension. "But aren't you young adults supposed to have more stamina?"

Harry made several attempts at an answer, but gave up with a bright blush and a shrug.

"Ah, now I understand," Mrs. Thatcher said, smiling. "You know, dear, you should really save some of that energy and put it towards other use. Now, I'm not telling you to stop such activities, mind you. Why, back when Jack and I first married we would go at it like-"

"Ah! That's - that's more than enough, Mrs. Thatcher!" Harry quickly interrupted. "But if you don't mind, I really need to get started on cleaning this mess. Plus, I've still got Malfoy to attend to upstair-"

Harry quickly cut himself off. Apparently he could stick his foot in much further than he had originally anticipated. Fucking brain. He really needed to learn how to think before speaking.

"Oh, well, why don't you go see to your boyfriend and I'll get started on this mess then," Mrs. Thatcher said as she began to roll up her sleeves.

"He's not my boyfriend and you really don't need to worry about this, I can clean it," Harry said as Mrs. Thatcher made her way over to the stove.

"Is this….oh my, is this part of the pot?" Mrs. Thatcher asked as she held up a gunk-covered bit of metal.

Harry instantly recognized it as part of his old cauldron. "Uhm, yes?"

Mrs. Thatcher examined it for a moment, when her eyes suddenly went wide. She quickly looked at Harry. "You are alright dear, aren't you? No broken skin?"

"No, I was on the other side of the kitchen when it happened. Why?"

"This pot is rusted over! If any of it scratched you, you'd need a tetanus shot right away!"

Harry's mind instantly flew to Malfoy's back. Well, he _had_ been exaggerating when he told Malfoy that his back was shredded…it was really nothing more than a few scratches. But still, he never really kept his cauldron very clean, and chances were that rust would be the least of Malfoy's worries.

"Harry, are you sure you're alright?" The elderly woman's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I'm fine," Harry reassured. "But I really do need to get things done here."

"Yes, I'll leave you to it then," Mrs. Thatcher said as she put the piece of cauldron down and headed to the door.

"Thank you for stopping by," Harry said as he ushered her to the door.

"Oh! Before I forget, Harry. I've been meaning to talk to you about your garden. There's an excellent Nursery on the corner of 5th and Mallard that sells some rather fine quality manure. I figured that might help you with your efforts on your garden," Mrs. Thatcher said as she headed down the porch steps. "Well, I'll be seeing you later. Ta-ta, dear."

Harry stood, clutching the door handle with a dumbfounded look upon his face. Manure! Why hadn't he thought of that! Merlin, he'd been living in the wizarding world for far too long. All he had to do was stop by the Nursery and they could easily help him with all his problems.

Feeling extremely stupid, Harry shut the door and went to work cleaning the kitchen and Malfoy's wounds.

**Doodle-eh-doo! Doodle-eh-doo! Doodle-eh-doo!**

Draco woke up to a mild stinging sensation on his back. As his senses slowly sharpened, he realized the pain was coming from something soft that seemed to be gently dabbing at his skin, with the most caring of touches. Groaning in annoyance, he shifted slightly, causing the touches to stop.

"Sorry. Did I wake you?"

Draco's eyes shot open at the voice and he quickly sat up, scrambling away. "Potter! What the hell do you think you're doing! Where's my shirt!"

"I was just-"

"Get out of my room! I never gave you permission to enter!"

"Well you were-"

"I swear to Salazar if I find out you molested me while I was sleeping-"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, SHUT UP!"

Malfoy's mouth snapped shut.

Harry blinked, slightly surprised that Malfoy actually listened.

"Er…right. Well, I was exaggerating when I said your back was shredded, and I was able to clean up all your scratches," Harry said as he motioned towards the small pile of red-stained cotton balls. "But I've got a bit of bad news…"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "What bad news?"

"Well…" Harry thought of the best way to put it lightly so Malfoy wouldn't explode. "We need to take you to the hospital."

"What for?"

"My cauldron sort of shattered in the blast, and the shards may be what tore at your back…and…well…my cauldron wasn't exactly kept in perfect condition."

"What exactly are you saying, Potter?" Malfoy asked dangerously.

"Some of the rust from the shards could have gotten into your bloodstream," Harry said hesitantly.

"So?"

"So we need to get you to the hospital right away for a Tetanus shot."

"I have no intention of going to St. Mungo's over such a trivial matter. And what the hell is a 'Tetanus shot'?" Malfoy said haughtily.

"That's the thing. We're not going to St. Mungo's. We're going to the local hospital."

"WHAT! You mean a MUGGLE hospital! Not on your life!" Malfoy shouted.

Harry sighed. He had expected this reaction and knew exactly how to counter it.

"Malfoy, unless you want to die a horrible, painful, not to mention very ignoble, death, you don't really have a choice in the matter."

"Ha. Your threats won't work with me. Dumbledore said you have to keep me alive," Malfoy stated smugly.

"That's what I'm trying to do. I'm serious here. If you don't get this shot, you could get really sick and die," Harry said exasperatedly.

"Nice try. There's no way I'm falling for that one," Malfoy said as he crossed his arms stubbornly.

"But Malfoy, you could be getting sick already! Do you feel warm at all?" Harry knew he had to at least feel hot…he had used warm water when cleansing Malfoy's back, plus he turned up the heater for when this problem arose.

Malfoy shifted a bit when he realized that he did in fact feel a little warm. "That doesn't matter. I'll just take some of that muggle medicine and I'll be fine."

Harry stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"What?"

"You're willing to take _muggle_ medicine, but you won't visit a muggle doctor?"

"Yes," Malfoy said stubbornly.

"I don't believe this! What the hell do you have against doctors?" Harry demanded.

"They're heathens! Don't you give me that look! I've heard rumors about their methods!" Draco exclaimed.

"What methods?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"They use leeches! They put them on your arm and they suck your blood right out of you! Not only that, but they go and cut off your appendages if your bone is broken. AND they cauterize open wounds to close them up!" Malfoy said in an increasingly panicked voice.

"Malfoy, they did that type of stuff back in the Medieval Ages! Their methods have been updated since then," Harry said incredulously. "The worst they'll do to you is give you a shot."

Draco still looked highly doubtful. "And what the bloody hell is a _shot_?

Harry hesitated. He had a feeling Draco wouldn't agree to this if he knew the full details of what a shot was.

"It's a way of administering medicine into the body," Harry said. "Look, I can promise you that you won't lose any arms or legs or…er…_other_ appendages. And they definitely will not have any leeches anywhere near the building. And the most they'll do with any scratches or cuts is put a bandage on it."

Malfoy simply frowned and reaffirmed his doubtful manner.

Harry growled before continuing. "Plus they have malpractice laws that basically state that if the patient is unsatisfied with their treatment, they can sue the doctor."

This statement seemed to catch Malfoy's attention. "Really?"

"Er…yes. Something like that. Basically, people got tired of doctors doing half-assed jobs, so they began to file lawsuits against them for poor treatments and such. So now, all doctors have to pay their malpractice insurance to help them pay for any lawsuits that may be filed against them. The more lawsuits they get, the higher their insurance. So this helps keep them honest and forces them to do a good job when treating patients."

Harry was sure that half of what he was saying wasn't quite right considering he hardly listened when he had first learned about this from Hermione, but it seemed to be holding Malfoy's interest, so he stuck with it.

"I see. So if I were to go to this muggle healer, and if he did something I didn't like, I can sue him?" Malfoy asked slowly.

"You can sue him for every penny he's worth, kick him to the ground and ruin his reputation for life," Harry said.

Malfoy thought this over for a moment. "Fine. I'll go."

Harry mentally sighed with relief. "Excellent. Now why don't you go ahead and take a quick shower. You still have some of the potion in your hair."

"Don't tell me what to do, Potter," Malfoy mumbled as he climbed out of bed and headed to the shower.

Harry turned and headed to his own bathroom, deciding to take a shower as well before Malfoy used up all the hot water. He remembered all too well Malfoy's reaction when he first discovered that the supply of warm water was somewhat limited. The result had been an extremely irate Malfoy, storming around with a head of shampoo wearing nothing but a towel, raising hell for no less than three hours.

The tirade would have lasted another five hours if Harry hadn't pointed out that the hot water was probably back on by that point. This statement had shocked Malfoy (who believed the water was gone for good) to the point of him nearly dropping his towel, causing Harry to go wide-eyed for a moment before quickly looking away. Not to mention fighting back the blush that had formed when he noticed how gloriously even Malfoy's milky skin tone was throughout his _entire_ body.

Once done with his shower, Harry jogged downstairs in search of his keys. By the time he found them, Malfoy was already standing by the door.

"Ready?" Harry asked as he opened the door, the response being in the form of Draco rolling his eyes as he stepped outside.

Harry walked up to his car, unlocking it with his remote entry. He was about to hop in when he noticed Malfoy standing next to him by the back seat door.

"You know you can sit in the front, right?" Harry asked.

"What, and let people think I'm some kind of servant?" Malfoy asked, highly offended.

"Malfoy, you're in the muggle world now. People could care less about where you sit in a car."

With a frown, Malfoy stomped around to the front of the car on the passenger side, mumbling about 'stupid, backwards muggle cultures'. Harry watched as Malfoy continued to simply stand there, glaring over at him.

"Well, aren't you going to open my door?" Malfoy demanded.

Rolling his eyes, Harry held back the comment that only couples do something like that as he went to open Malfoy's door, praying that Mrs. Thatcher wasn't peeping out her windows.

**Doodle-eh-doo! Doodle-eh-doo! Doodle-eh-doo!**

Harry sat, flipping through a magazine, attempting to ignore the blonde's nervous fidgeting as they sat in the Examination room, waiting for the doctor to arrive. Malfoy's eyes seemed to be fixated on the numerous posters that were pinned on the wall, depicting facts about various cancers and diseases.

"Potter, is it possible for wizards to get muggle diseases?" Malfoy asked nervously.

"Probably, only I doubt they go by the same name in our world," Harry replied distractedly. "Plus you can probably only get the more serious diseases here in the muggle world as well."

"So…" Malfoy gulped. "I can catch menopause then?"

Harry stopped reading, slowly raising his gaze to meet Malfoy's curious eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No. What? Why? No. Why, is it bad?" Malfoy asked, nearly losing his head in terror. "Actually, there are a lot of things I'm not telling you. Could you be a little more specific?

"Do you have a penis?" Harry asked slowly, fighting back his smirk.

Malfoy nodded, wide-eyed.

"Well then you have nothing to worry about," Harry said casually, going back to his reading.

"Wait a minute, what makes you so sure?" Malfoy asked peevishly.

"Trust me on this, Malfoy. As long as you have a penis, a scrotum, a prostate, and an Adam's apple, you don't have to worry about 'catching' menopause," Harry said, before pausing for a moment to think. "And as long as you don't hang around old ladies as well."

"Why? What's wrong with old birds?"

"They're the ones that carry the menopause."

Much to Harry's delight, Malfoy's eyes seemed to grow even larger, obviously thinking about Mrs. Thatcher and her lot. Swallowing uneasily, he fidgeted a bit before deciding to accept Harry's answer and went back to educating himself through the range of advertisements splashed about the walls, allowing Harry to turn his attention back to his magazine.

"Oh Merlin…Potter, I think I have Alzheimer's disease!" Malfoy exclaimed, his eyes currently reading through a large poster with a brain on it.

Harry snorted and glanced up. "What makes you say that?"

"I can't remember what I had for lunch!" Malfoy said, panicking.

"That's because you never got a chance to eat lunch," Harry replied in a bored tone.

"You're trying to give me anorexia, aren't you!" Malfoy said accusingly.

"What? You can't 'give' someone anorexia." Harry said, putting his magazine aside.

"Yes you can! You refused to make me lunch! And look where it landed me! In a hospital!" Malfoy yelled, wildly gesturing at the strange nonmagical objects littered about the place. "With muggles no less!"

"Malfoy, anorexia is when you refuse to eat because you believe yourself to be fat." Harry tried to explain.

"Are you saying I'm fat!" Malfoy gasped.

"What? No, I'm just-"

"Yes you did! You think I'm fat!"

"I don't think you're fat," Harry said.

"Then why wouldn't you make me lunch?" Malfoy asked.

"Because I was busy."

Malfoy's response was to cross his arms and look away, glaring at the wall.

"Look, you're not fat. I don't think that at all," Harry said, trying to reprimand the situation. "You've got a great body with great muscles and everything. Not that I've been looking, mind you."

"Whatever, you poof. Like I would ever turn for you. You might give me AIDS," Malfoy said, his attention currently on an AIDS poster.

"You can get AIDS from both sexes, you twat," Harry said tiredly. "And I am not gay!"

"Sure. I bet you picture me in the shower just to get yourself hard."

"Hardly. At least my libido's that of a normal 19 year old's," Harry said, picking up his magazine.

"Godric, what if I have prostate cancer!" Malfoy worriedly announced, his eyes flying to the poster with a giant penis plastered across it.

To this, Harry raised a brow. "Have you been having any troubles with your _sex_ life?"

Malfoy shifted slightly, pausing to think. "Thanks to you, I haven't had much of a sex life-"

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused Malfoy to snap his mouth shut.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Muraki." The man said as he stretched out his hand to shake both Potter's and Malfoy's. "So, which one of you is Mr. …Milroy?" he asked, consulting the form on his clipboard.

Harry snorted as Malfoy scowled at his false last name. 'Milroy' hardly measured up to something as high-class sounding as 'Malfoy'.

"Well then, Mr. Milroy, what seems to be the problem today? Not feeling well?" Dr. Muraki asked as he went about gathering items for the examination.

"I'm fine," Malfoy said stubbornly.

"His back was scratched up with a bunch of rusty metal, so he needs a tetanus shot," Potter said.

"I see." Came the absent-minded reply as the doctor turned around, holding what appeared to be a Popsicle stick. "And has he had all his childhood shots?"

"Er…" Harry honestly didn't know whether wizarding children received such treatments.

"Have you ever had the chicken pox? Measles? Anything like that?" The doctor asked, turning his attention back to Draco.

"The 'Weasels'? The Weasleys have a disease named after them?" Draco asked, thoroughly surprised and not to mention extremely terrified if it was anything like the family themselves. Oh Sweet Salazar! Did the Weasels consist of one being infected or afflicted with red hair and freckles!

"Not the Weasels, you idiot. The _measles_. You know, the mumps? Small pox? Chicken pox?" Harry said exasperatedly. "No? Well how about Mad Cow disease? Anthrax? The Black Death?"

Draco frowned, obviously not recognizing any of the listed muggle illnesses. "No. I hardly ever get sick. My family had the best Healer money could buy," he said, choosing to ignore the fact that Harry was obviously making fun of him for his lack of knowledge concerning muggle illnesses.

"Then I'll assume you've received all your shots," the doctor said as he moved closer to Draco, Popsicle stick poised in hand.

"I told you, I'm not sick! What's that? Will it hurt?" Draco asked fearfully, leaning away from the doctor's hand.

"It's a tongue depressor. It won't hurt at all," Dr. Muraki answered kindly. "Now, open your mouth and say 'ah'."

Draco did as instructed, his eyes glaring at Potter, who seemed to be snickering from behind his magazine.

"And when did this incident occur?" the doctor asked.

"Earlier today, around lunchtime," Potter replied, watching as Dr. Muraki tossed the depressor into the trash.

"What's THAT? Will it hurt?" Draco asked dreadfully as the man in white took the thing from around his neck and placed it on his ears.

"It's a stethoscope, to listen to your heart. It won't hurt at all." The doctor explained patiently. "Now please remove your shirt."

After glancing at Potter for reassurance, Draco removed his shirt, flinching slightly as the cold end piece was placed against his chest. The doctor listened for a moment before walking around to the other side of the hospital bed to examine the scratches on Draco's back.

Silence reigned as the doctor went about scribbling notes on his clipboard before reaching over to grab another strange shaped item. This time, it looked like a long thin white wand with fluff on the end.

"What's THAT? Will _THAT_ hurt?" Draco asked as he scooted away slightly.

"It's a cattle prod," Harry answered. "It hurts a little less than a branding iron."

The Gryffindor watched in gleeful amusement as Malfoy's eyes rolled up in his head, passing out for the second time that day.

Grinning sheepishly at the glare the doctor was giving him, Harry said. "He has no sense of humor…"

"Your friend here is obviously already distraught about this visit, and you're not helping him in the least," the doctor scolded as he went to retrieve some smelling salts from a nearby drawer. "I'll have to ask you to wait outside once he is revived."

Harry didn't argue as he put down the magazine and went to stand by the door, waiting patiently as Malfoy was brought to. Once he was sure the boy was awake, he moved to step outside, and stood beside the door, listening to the conversation from within.

"Hey, Doctor, why are you rubbing my arm with cotton? Are you going to put a leech there?" Malfoy could be heard asking.

"…" Silence on Dr. Muraki's part.

"Are you going to bleed me? You're not going to amputate are you? ARE you?

"…"

"What's that? Is that a shot? Are you going to…AAUGHH! IT WENT CLEAR THROUGH MY ARM! Ow ow ow ow!"

"…"

"I'M DYING! I hope you paid your malpractice insurance, you quack! WHERE'S POTTER!"

Harry groaned as Malfoy's voice was easily heard in the halls by several passing nurses and patients, who all slowed in their tracks to see what might be going on.

"He's a little nervous," Harry told them with an awkward smile.

The nurses nodded understandingly before continuing down the hall. It was at this moment, Dr. Muraki walked out of the room.

"He'll be fine. Be sure to bring him back in if he complains about feeling fatigued, feverish, sore, or anything like that," the doctor said as he consulted his clipboard.

"If he complains or if he actually is?" Harry asked wisely.

To this, the Doctor couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I see what you mean. I'll take this paperwork up to the front desk, and you two should be free to go."

Harry nodded in thanks and ducked back into the room, only to be greeted with a deep glare from Malfoy as the boy sat clutching his arm where the shot had been given.

"I'm never trusting you again," The blond stated angrily.

"Oh go on, it wasn't that bad," Harry said as he approached the hospital bed.

"Wasn't that bad! You told me they updated their methods! Sticking a bloody needle in my arm is as primitive as they come!" Malfoy complained as he put his shirt back on. "I can see why the Dark Lord wants to get rid of them all. Neanderthals! The lot of them!"

Harry bit his tongue from making any comments, allowing Malfoy to continue on his tirade while they headed towards the parking lot.

"Walking around with their head stuck up their arses. Yes that's right, I'm talking about you, you stupid muggle! Don't you give me that look! I know hexes that will cause your face to become stuck like that! Yeah, not a very pretty picture is it!" Malfoy yelled at a bystander as Harry was forced to grab his arm to drag him off. "OW! That's my bad arm, you twat!"

Harry quickly let go as he opened the door for Malfoy to get in the car, noticing with some amusement that the Band-Aid placed on Malfoy's arm was decorated with the Simpsons ©.


	3. Shopping With Sadists

**Title**: A Muggle Way of Life

**Author**: Reyn

**Rating**: Not sure…T for now due to language, but if I expand this, it might get moved up to M

**Author's Note**: Hooray! Another chapter! Took me long enough, ne? For a scary second there I was worried this story would go on hiatus due to lack of motivation…

Oh! And Brownie points to those who can name all the OC's with spoken lines

**Chapter Dedication**: This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful moonlit-shadow0x whose idea I practically stole for the second half of this chapter. Don't worry, I have her permission, but if you want to see the original work, check out her oneshot '_A Muggle Thing_'.

**Previous Chapter**: When we last left off, our Hero and Anti-Hero were forced to make their way to the doctor's office to save Draco from a potentially dangerous death by rust. His first muggle doctor visit was punctuated with learning of all that is horrible about muggle sickness, and took a definite turn for the worst as he was given his first shot ever.

**CHAPTER 3: Shopping with Sadists**

"Nn!...Ah!...Mm!...Sss!...Nn!..Ow!"

"Damn it, Malfoy! If it hurts so much, stop poking at it!" Harry exclaimed, finally losing his temper after listening to the quiet exclamations of pain for the past five _grueling_ minutes.

"Why don't the pictures on this spellotape bandage move?" Malfoy asked, wincing as he poked at the characters on the Band-Aid once more.

"Because it's muggle. And just like all the other pictures we've encountered here in the muggle world, they won't move no matter how many times you prod at them," Harry explained for what felt to be the millionth time.

"It still hurts," Malfoy complained.

"That's because you haven't stopped poking at it since we got in the car!"

"But why does it still hurt? It should've been healed the second the healer left the room!" Malfoy said, genuine fear lacing through his voice. Oh Merlin, he was going to loose a limb, wasn't he!

Harry sighed. "We're not in the wizarding world anymore, Malfoy. Things take time to heal, no matter how small the injury."

"Are you sure the doctor just wasn't a quack?" Malfoy asked sulkily.

"There's nothing wrong with Dr. Muraki. The problem is with you poking at it. If you had just left it alone, it wouldn't even hurt anymore."

"And how would you know? Have _you_ ever gotten a shot before?"

"As a matter of fact, I have. Loads of times," Harry commented lightly, recalling his days with the Dursleys. Immunizations were required for school, and the Dursleys figured if Harry was going to get his shots, he might as well get all of them, including the ones that weren't required. Harry wasn't sure if they did it because it would be a pain on Harry's part or if they hoped pumping him full of muggle medicine would destroy the magic running through his veins. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

As Harry was off recalling his childhood doctor visits, he didn't notice the crazed look Malfoy was currently giving him.

Who in their right mind would be willing to put themselves through that kind of torture? The needle went STRAIGHT THROUGH his ARM! Who-? What-? _WHY_!

Realization dawned on the blond.

"You're a bleeding masochist, aren't you!" Draco accused, hand tightly wrapped around his injured arm.

"What! Where the hell did you pull that from?" Harry asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to spare a glance in Malfoy's direction.

"You aren't denying it!" Draco pointed out before hissing in pain at the too-tight grip he had on his own arm.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, Malfoy, I do not get off on pain. If anything, I'm the complete opposite."

The blonde's eyes widened. "You're a sadist!"

"No, that's not what-"

"No wonder you were so insistent on me getting shot! You enjoy it when I'm in pain, don't you! Merlin, when we get home you're going to lock yourself in the bathroom, picture my face contorted in pain, and wank, aren't you? AREN'T YOU! Hey, why are you stopping the car? This isn't our house!" Draco leaned away from Harry. "Potter, I swear if you try to rape me, wand or not, I'll make sure you die a slow and painful death!"

"Oh, get over yourself, you prat. We're at the bloody grocery store," Harry said before getting out of the car. "And for the record, your face looks worse than a screwed up walnut when you act as if you're in pain, and I can safely say that _that's_ a mental image my penis will only react to in the softest of ways."

Draco sat there in shock for a moment before scrambling out of the car after his rival.

"My face is NOT like a walnut's! You take that back right now!" he demanded, stomping after the raven-haired boy.

"And why would I want to do that?" Harry casually asked, weaving through the cars in the parking lot.

"Because first off, my skin is like the moonlight - soft and glowing. This is the perfect mark of an aristocrat, whereas a walnut is hideously tan, which clearly represents the lower, less refined class." Draco gave Harry a pointed, contemptuous look. "Secondly, a walnut is full of wrinkles, and if you look closely, you'll see that I have none. In fact, my skin is as smooth, perfect, creamy, and pale as…" Draco paused as he tried to think of the perfect analogy.

"A baby's bottom?" Harry offered helpfully.

Draco furiously looked over at the dark-haired boy next to him. "Did you just compare my head to a person's _derriere_!"

"A _baby's_ derriere, yes," Harry corrected.

That was it. No one, and I mean _no one_, got away with so casually insulting a Malfoy. No one!

Harry didn't even know what hit him as Malfoy tackled him from the side, sending them both into the nearest car with a dull thud.

The two rolled around and wrestled for the upper hand, jabbering and bumping into random cars while throwing punches as an outlet for the built up stress they had acquired while living together.

"-And learn to flush the toilet once in a bloody while! They don't magically flush like they-"

"-I expect my meals to be prepared on time! I shouldn't have to complain about being hungry for you to-"

"-stop poking at the paintings on the wall! They'll never move and you're ruining them with your filthy-"

"-if I have to wake up at the bloody crack of dawn to the sound of you singing off-key in the shower one more time-"

"-repair bill was 600 pounds! You better pay me back with interest, you bloody-"

DEEDOODEEDOODEEDOODEEDOODEEDOODEEDOODEEDOODEEDOODEE-!

Both boys scrambled away from the car they had just bumped into as its alarm wailed throughout the parking lot.

Draco had jumped back a good twenty feet and was frantically patting himself down in a desperate search for his wand before remembering it wasn't there.

"Make it stop!" he shouted, his hands flying up to cover his ears as the alarm seemed to get even louder.

"I can't!" Harry shouted back, nervously glancing around the parking lot at the few people who had stopped to stare at them with bewildered, accusing eyes. "Come on!" he grabbed Malfoy's sleeve and dashed off, dragging the panicking blond to the store.

Once they reached the building's doors, Harry pulled Malfoy off to the side, giving them a chance to catch their breath.

Harry looked over at the blond, who was leaning heavily against the wall, eyes unnaturally wide, mouth gasping for breath, and hand clutching his shirt over his heart.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, feeling guilty at this initial glee at the thought that Malfoy might be having a heart attack. It wouldn't do well if the Slytherin really were to die on him. Harry imagined he would have a hard time explaining the circumstances surrounding Malfoy's death to the Order.

"What…the bloody _fuck_...was _that_?" Malfoy demanded.

"A car alarm."

"A what!"

"A device to keep other people from stealing someone's car," Harry explained.

"Why'd it turn on?"

"Because we bumped into the car."

"So? We bumped into loads of cars," Malfoy reasoned, not coming to the full understanding of what he was being told.

""Not all cars have alarms."

"But we weren't even trying to steal it!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, the alarm had no way of knowing that."

Draco looked perplexed for a moment before his classic sneer was back in place and he began muttering under his breath about how asinine all muggle inventions were.

Harry simply remained silent as he headed inside, watching Malfoy jump at the automatic sliding doors out of the corner of his eye. Grabbing a cart, Harry patiently waited for the blond to follow, hiding an amused expression as Malfoy cautiously scampered through the doors, worried that they might close on him. He was then delayed for another moment as the contemptuous Slytherin took the time to leer at the shopping cart, as if it had done him a personal wrong before Harry let out an exasperated sigh and began moving forward.

Automatically heading towards the fresh produce section first, Harry paid Malfoy little mind as he went about searching for the freshest fruits and vegetables.

Harry decided this to be a bad idea as a loud series of thuds caused him to turn and find Malfoy a short distance away, holding a single apple with the rest of the red fruit piled up around his feet and scattered about the floor. The Gryffindor frowned as he vaguely recalled seeing a pyramid display in the empty spot next to where Malfoy was standing.

Growling softly, Harry quickly moved to fetch the troublemaker and dragged him back to the cart by his arm.

"Do NOT leave my side," Harry ordered before turning back to his previous task of examining broccoli; a very important task that required all of his attention. But far be it from the blond to allow the Gryffindor's eyes to stray somewhere else.

"Aren't you going to clean that up?" Malfoy asked; pointing to the mess he had made.

"I am not your slave, Malfoy, nor am I your father. If anything, you should be the one on your hands and knees helping that poor shopkeeper instead of that old lady who can barely bend over."

"Are you nuts? I'm not about to go over there with that worker and old lady just to put myself at risk of catching menopause!"

Harry snorted, earning them both a stern glare from a woman who was just passing by, obviously sensitive on the subject of aging (her name was Mom, suspiciously enough).

Weaving his way over to the fruits, Harry began to pat down cantaloupe, hoping to find a good one to serve with breakfast later that week.

He obviously forgot the first rule of watching a child in the store: NEVER take your eyes off the child. NEVER.

A quiet '_ow!_' followed by some soft chuckling wasn't enough to pull Harry's attention. However, the loud "What are you snickering at, you stupid muggle!" was.

Harry looked over to see an irate Malfoy standing in front of the pineapples, glaring at a young man who looked to be only a few years older than them. Quickly deciding this man wasn't someone to be reckoned with (due to his back hair with bleached tips, tattoo, and freaky contacts), Harry hurried over before the situation grew out of hand.

"Mal-…Drake! What are you-?"

"You see this man!" Draco proclaimed, grabbing Harry by the sleeve and yanking him forward. "He's the most powerful man you'll ever lay eyes on! He's also my keeper, so you better think twice before laughing at me or I'll have him hex your pants off!"

The young man raised a brow. "Hex my pants off? Why don't you just take them off yourself if you really want to see my cock so badly?"

As Malfoy turned bright pink and began to sputter, Harry intervened.

"Sorry about him. He's special," he said, tapping the side of his head out of the blonde's line of sight.

"You hear that? I'm special!" Malfoy announced, obviously missing the meaning Harry sent across. "So you better back off!"

The man rolled his eyes with a smirk and walked over to a different fruit display, leaving Harry behind, wishing there was a wall he could bash his head into. Or some ice to put on his neck where Malfoy had managed to land a punch. Although considering the fact he was still in the Slytherin's company, he'd gladly take the wall over the ice.

And then he'd bash Malfoy's face into it instead.

After all, while Dumbledore had said to keep him safe and alive, he never mentioned anything about him not being injured…

Harry shook his head from his thoughts. Merlin, if he kept up this kind of thinking he'd be proving Malfoy's sadist accusation correct. But then again, if Malfoy was a masochist it wouldn't be so bad. The idiot _was_ worrying his wound in the car earlier.

The sudden mental image of a naked Draco gagged and bound to a chair, his legs tied so that they were forced open to reveal all assaulted Harry's mind. The blonde's face flushed and his eyes shimmered with unspoken pleas as he tried to shift in to a more comfortable position, only to moan as the ropes that restrained his movement cut into his skin. The blush that stained Harry's own cheeks caused him to doubt his anti-sadistic manner as his mind's eye traveled down mental!Draco's torso to gaze upon his fully erect and weeping cock.

A dull 'thud' followed by a splattering sound and a rather loud 'Oi!' broke Harry away from his thoughts as he whirled around to see what sort of trouble Malfoy had gotten himself into this time.

Taking in the sight before him, the Gryffindor groaned, distinctly wishing he were anywhere but here.

There stood Malfoy with a malicious, triumphant smirk firmly on his face. In front of him, looking absolutely furious, was the snickering man from earlier – covered from his feet to his upper thighs in broken bits of watermelon.

"MALFOY!" Harry shouted, completely forgetting the need to keep the idiot's name a secret. "What the HELL are you doing!"

"It slipped," the blond replied, his smirk transforming into a self-satisfied grin.

"I am really _really_ sorry about him," Harry quickly apologized before grabbing Malfoy's arm and dragging him off to the opposite end of the market.

"What are you doing! Where are you taking me!" the blond cried out. "I demand you unhand me this instant!"

Rather than reply, Harry chose to do what he did best where the Slytherin was concerned. Ignore him.

"Will you let me go! You're hurting my arm! What are you looking for anywa-OW! Stop pulling! What is that? What did you just grab from the shelves? OW! I told you to stop dragging me around! All it takes is a gentle tug to make me come, you prat! There's no use in trying to rip my arm off!"

Harry continued to remain silent as they headed back to the cart.

"_Now_ what are you doing?" Malfoy asked once his arm was free. "What's that? Hey! Why are you ripping the bag open? You haven't paid for that yet! Ow! Let go of – hey! What are you-? What the hell!"

Stepping back, the raven haired man proudly surveyed his work. To help prevent anymore incidents from happening, Malfoy's left wrist was now zip-tied to the metal bars of the shopping cart.

"Potter!" Malfoy hissed, instantly moving forward to block his bound wrist from any curious stares. "What is the meaning of this? Untie me, right now!"

"No," Harry replied simply, moving forward to start pushing the cart over to the watermelons to properly apologize to the man, Malfoy having no choice but to walk alongside.

As they approached the mess, another man walked over, carefully stepping over the broken bits of shell that littered the floor. Tall and seemingly suave in every way, this light brunette was laughing as he approached his friend. Soft words were exchanged before the brunette's laughter doubled, causing the other man to scowl.

Still chuckling, the brunette picked a bit of watermelon off his friend's pant leg and popped it into his mouth, causing not only his friend, but Harry and Draco to go wide-eyed. Now smirking, he picked off another bit of watermelon and gently put it against red lips, watching as his _lover_ accepted the fruit and devoured it, pink tongue darting out to wipe away any juicy residue.

Both Harry and Draco stopped unable to tear their eyes away from the sight as the brunette swooped down to steal a kiss, and then several more, which rapidly led up to a full-blown snogging session right there in the mess of watermelon.

"Err…right. Let's get our shopping done, shall we?" Harry said in a strained voice as he practically pivoted the cart and made a beeline for the nearest aisle to disappear into.

**Doodle-eh-doo! Doodle-eh-doo! Doodle-eh-doo!**

"Malfoy, you do realize that if you keep twisting your wrist like that, it will eventually chafe and remain sore for a few days, right?" Harry asked in an almost bored tone as he eyed the rows of meat before him.

"And whose fault will that be?" Malfoy retorted, giving up his futile struggle.

"Yours," Harry replied, placing some fish in the cart before steering it down another aisle.

"Merlin, this has got to be the worst and most humiliating day of my life," the blond muttered as he trudged alongside the cart.

"Worse than the ferret incident?" Harry asked, earning himself a harsh glare, to which he grinned in reply. "Well, since you're here, I might as well get your opinion for what you want to eat next week."

Sulking silence was his reply.

With a sigh, Harry turned to the nearest shelf and grabbed two cans. "Malfoy, do you prefer spaghetti or ravioli?"

"What are those?" Malfoy asked, frowning.

Harry glanced down at the cans in his hands. "Err…spaghetti and ravioli. Why?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Potter, I have seen spaghetti and ravioli served on the finest of platters in Italy, and I can tell you right now that _those_ are neither spaghetti nor ravioli."

"Just because they're canned doesn't mean-"

"What's 'canned'?"

Harry paused before remembering that canning foods was purely a muggle thing. "It's the process of putting food in a tin can to help it last longer."

"That's not natural," Malfoy said in disgust as he stepped back from the objects in Harry's hands before looking up at the rows upon rows of canned food. "Why do muggles can everything in sight?"

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes. "Just because you're used to your spaghetti served on a silver platter-"

"At least it's not served in a can."

Harry groaned, putting the two cans back on the shelf. It looked like he was stuck buying the actual ingredients to make spaghetti.

Moving further down the aisle, Harry paused to pull two more items off the shelf. "Malfoy, do you like creamed corn or string beans?"

"Are they canned?"

"Yes."

"Neither," the Slytherin sniffed, looking away in disdain.

Shaking his head, Harry tossed the corn into the cart before moving on to the frozen foods section.

"Alright Malfoy, any preferences?" Harry asked, stopping before one of the many plexi-glass doors.

"Preferences for what?"

Harry pointed inside the refrigerated unit. "Food."

"_That's_ food!"

"They're frozen dinners," Harry explained.

"Frozen! Potter, you can't possibly expect me to eat frozen food!"

"Of course not. You microwave them first. You don't actually eat them frozen."

Malfoy looked into the freezer next to him and stared at the rows of tiny cardboard boxes displaying pictures of their contents. Even the advertisements looked cheap!

"I refuse to eat that rubbish."

"Well, until I get more money into my muggle account you don't have much of a choice. Now would you like the Hungry He-Man roast beef, the Mighty Muncher's chicken pot pie, or the pizza?"

The blonde's ears perked at the last choice. "I'll take the pizza."

With a nod, Harry headed over a few steps and pulled the door open.

"Wait, is the pizza frozen too?" Malfoy asked, slightly shocked.

"Yeah…"

"Then I don't want it."

With a sigh, Harry grabbed the pizza anyways and tossed it into the cart.

"Hey, I said I didn't want it!" Malfoy protested.

"Well, I want it, and I know the second you get hungry, you'll want some as well," Harry said as he pushed the cart out of the frozen foods aisle. "Now, if I actually cooked you spaghetti tonight, no can or anything, would you eat it?"

The Slytherin thought for a moment. "Yes."

Harry grinned, feeling quite pleased that he was able to find something the blond would actually agree to eat. Turning down the appropriate aisle, he picked up a bag of noodles.

"Potter, what are those?" Malfoy asked as the bag was placed into the cart.

"The noodles for the spaghetti."

"What are they all skinny…" Malfoy poked at the bag, "…and crunchy?"

"They're dehydrated. You can't honestly expect them to be sitting there cooked," Harry answered as he went about grabbing other needed ingredients.

"Dehydrated! Are you telling me muggles go off dehydrating their food!"

"Of course. It would go bad otherwise. Besides, I'm pretty sure muggles aren't the only ones who do this. You should try visiting your kitchens once in a while before your meals are ready."

"I changed my mind," Malfoy said, attempting to cross his arms and failing miserably. "I don't feel like spaghetti tonight."

"Too late. You no longer have a choice in the matter," Harry replied airily, continuing with his shopping.

"What? But you said I could choose!"

"That was before you got all picky. What does it matter how the food is packaged as long as it looks and tastesedible after cooking?"

"It's all about _quality_, you plebian. I'm sure such a term is known even here in the muggle world," Malfoy said as he was dragged along to the checkout aisle with the cart.

Harry went back to ignoring him.

Realizing he was no longer receiving the attention he so highly deserved, Malfoy huffed and gave his bound wrist a fruitless tug before turning his attention to the magazine rack as Potter went about emptying the cart.

'_The Anti-Christ is Here!_'

'_Aliens Made My Cow Explode!_'

'_Dust Bunnies Tried to Eat My Baby!_'

"Potter, I though muggles didn't know about magic," Draco said, looking over the bizarre covers of the magazines.

"They know about it, they just don't believe in it. It's our world in general they don't know about," Harry said as he put the last of the items on the conveyor belt. "Why? Oh. Those are just tabloids. Most of the stuff in them is made up."

"What makes you so sure?"

Harry paused. Malfoy did have a point. After all, wasn't it the flying car that made headlines back in his second year?

"Hey, what's this?"

Harry looked over to see Malfoy pick up a chocolate bar. "It's candy. That's a Snickers© barIt's made of chocolate, peanuts, and caramel."

"Really? And what's this?" Malfoy grabbed another bright package.

"Skittles©."

"And this?"

"100 Grand©."

Malfoy eyed the rest of the candy on the shelves for a moment before grabbing two of everything. "Potter, I want these," he proclaimed while struggling to keep it all from dropping with his one free arm

"What? I'm not going to buy all that! Are you insane?" Harry exclaimed as he stared at the pile of candy that was being dumped into the previously empty cart.

"You said I could choose! And I choose these!"

"Malfoy, you can't eat sweets for every meal. You'll get sick. I'll let you get two."

"No. I want them all. And if you don't get them for me, I'll eat them all right now, and you'll have to pay for them regardless," the blond argued, already grabbing the closest bag of M&Ms ©.

"Give me that!" Harry snatched back the bag. He glared for a moment before sighing and putting all the candy onto the conveyor belt with the rest of their items. He knew if he argued anymore they would end up fighting, and considering how tightly packed the line was at the moment, such an occurrence wouldn't be appreciated.

The sudden rattle of the cart as Malfoy jumped caused Harry to look up in annoyance. "Now what?"

The Slytherin sent Harry an irritated glance before turning his attention back to the conveyor belt, which was currently sliding their food forward. A small smile graced the Gryffindor's lips at how easily Malfoy was entertained before he finished unloading the last of the candy.

He then pushed the once again empty cart forward, startling the blond as he was forced to stagger along side, attempting to squeeze between the register behind him and the cart that was taking up a majority of the space.

"Potter!" Malfoy gasped out as he found himself trapped, unable to move any further.

Harry blinked, briefly wondering why the idiot didn't scoot back out if he didn't have any room before he remembered the fact that Malfoy's wrist was still attached to the cart.

"Right! Hang on," he said, looking around briefly as his thought process slowly caught up. "Excuse me, miss?" Harry asked the woman behind the counter. "You wouldn't happen to have a pair of scissors, would you?"

The woman ('Demitria' according to her name tag) looked up. "No, I don't. Why?"

"Well, you see, my…friend here has his wrist attached to the cart at the moment, and we have no way of setting him free."

Demitria blinked for a moment before her eyes shifted over to Malfoy and focused on his bound wrist. "What'd you tie him up for?" she asked as her hand moved to pick up the phone.

"Because he's a sadist and a bloody idiot to boot," Malfoy answered, his tone clearly indicating his plans for the Gryffindor's early demise.

"_Can I have an associate bring a pair of scissors to the cash wrap?_"

Draco nearly leapt out of his skin as he heard Demitria's voice from both in front of him and from just about everywhere else in the store. Bloody hell, he was going to kill Potter for not warning him about muggles' alternatives to magic. He had believed muggles were still trapped in the Stone Age due to their incompetence and because of this, his guard had been lowered.

He watched wearily as another worker approached the counter, carrying a large pair of scissors.

"Whotcha need 'em for, Dem?" the man asked as he handed the scissors over.

Demitria handed the scissors over to Harry, motioning towards Draco with her head. "This bloke here's gone and tied himself to the cart."

"Whotcha tie yourself up for?"

"I didn't," Draco growled as Harry wedged the scissors between the zip tie and his wrist. "This moron did."

"Well, why'd you let him?"

Eyes narrowed, Draco was about to let all hell break lose when Harry interrupted.

"These scissors are too blunt," he said, handing them back to the associate. "I don't suppose you have anything sharper?"

With a sigh, Demitria picked up the phone once again.

"_Can I have an associate bring a knife to the-_"

"I'll get it, Dem, don't worry," the man said, heading off.

"Oh, alright. Thanks!" Demitria called out before turning her attention back to the odd couple. "In the meantime I might as well ring up your groceries before the rest of the customers get impatient."

"I swear to Salazar, Potter, if you slice off my hand I'll cast a reanimation spell to make sure it strangles you in your sleep every night for the rest of your miserable life."

Harry chuckled at the threat. "Then I'll just have to be careful not to slice your dick off, won't I? Or else…err…never mind."

Draco scowled as the raven-haired boy began to blush at his own words. He hated muggles. Almost as much as he currently hated Potter. Seriously.


End file.
